Eeth Koth, Junior Padawan
by Livia Yoran
Summary: This is a Star Wars fan fic involving Eeth Koth in an alternate universe where he is an initiate waiting for a Jedi master to choose him as an apprentice. This involves comfort, bonding, but also spanking and more severe methods of punishment. If this is not your cup of tea, don't read on. Just for the record, I don't approve of the spanking of real children. This is fiction. D-uh.
1. Chapter 1

"Master Jaa," said crèche master Min, bowing to the tall Iktotchi woman who was standing on his senior crèche's doorstep. "I haven't seen you in a long time. I hope you are well?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," said Jedi Master Fenya Jaa, smiling at him. "I've been on a mission to Jarqueet for nearly a year. Now that I'm back and got my mission debriefing and post-mission check-up over with, I'm free for as much as two whole days."

The crèche master's dark eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Ah yes, the joys of life as a field knight," he remarked. "Free days. We rarely have them here. I assume you've come to see Eeth?"

"I have," said Fenya. "Is he free?"

"He has a free period until dinnertime now", replied Min. "I have no idea where he's spending it, though. Most initiates are currently in the garden, but he often keeps to himself."

"I know," Fenya said a little wistfully. For a moment, the image of a skinny four-year-old Zabrak boy appeared before her inner eye. He was sitting behind a trash can in a Nar Shaddaa alleyway, alone, hidden from the view of most passers-by, looking at her with sharp, wary eyes. She shook herself briefly to get rid of the mental picture and went off in search of initiate Eeth Koth.

She first looked into his room, knowing that Eeth spent much time studying, a lot more than he was required to. The immaculately tidy and completely impersonal room was empty, though. Fenya continued towards the gym, knowing that Eeth spent at least as much time working out as he spent studying - again, a lot more than he was required to. The crèche gym and the smaller practice rooms attached to it held a number of initiates, but Eeth was not among them. Finally, she proceeded to the gardens.

As she made for the door, a girl whom she recognised as a member of Eeth's clan came in from the playground, politely holding the door open for her.

"Thank you, initiate," Fenya said. "Do you happen to know whether Eeth Koth is outside?"

"I think so, master," the girl replied respectfully. "I've seen him head to the garden of silence when the free period started. He might be meditating."

That last bit sounded just a tad disdainfully, and Fenya was wondering about that briefly, but she did not comment. Instead, she merely nodded briefly in acknowledgement and went outside. She crossed the large garden with the playground and lawn where most of Eeth's clan were currently playing vossball. Hidden behind a copse of trees was a smaller garden that was named "garden of silence". It was soundproofed by an invisible barrier and was meant for initiates who sought to meditate or study silently.

It was in the hindmost corner of that garden, nearly hidden from view by a couple of blossoming trumpet flower bushes, that she found Eeth, kneeling on the soft moss and meditating with his eyes closed. He noticed her approach almost instantly, however, and resurfaced from his trance, opening his eyes.

"Master Jaa," he said respectfully, rising smoothly from his kneeling position and bowing a tad more deeply than the average initiate would have done.

"Initiate Eeth," she replied solemnly, returning the bow. She had never known a child who liked his formalities as much as Eeth, and that was after having trained two padawans already.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?" she inquired. "If I do, please tell me. I can come back some other time."

Eeth hesitated for a fraction of a second, apparently pondering whether she was, in fact, disturbing him, then shook his head.

"No, it was not that important," he said. "Or at least, nothing I could not finish later. We will have to go somewhere else, though. Talking is strictly prohibited here."

At the moment, there was nobody else in the garden of silence and Fenya doubted that anybody would reprimand a Jedi master for talking to an initiate in here, but apparently Eeth took the rules very seriously. She did not want to discourage that, so she said: "All right, let's go somewhere else, then."

She checked her chrono and found that they still had three hours till dinnertime, so she proposed: "We could go to one of the observation lounges. I haven't been to Coruscant for nearly a year; I would quite like to watch its skyline for a while. How about you? I could ask Master Min if he'd allow me to take you."

Eeth gave her a thoughtful look, then nodded.

"Yes, please," he said politely, his face impassive.

He was always so composed, Fenya thought. Most initiates would have been elated to get out of the crèche and to a place that was very rarely accessible to them. If Eeth was pleased, however, he did not show it, although Fenya suspected he was, else he would not have asked her to come.

Truth be told, Fenya had no idea why she was even taking the child to the observation lounge. She had certainly not been planning it when she had come to a crèche to check, as she infrequently did, on the Zabrak boy she had found on Nar Shaddaa six years ago. Her previous check-ups had invariably been brief affairs. Usually they had been sitting in Eeth's room, with her asking a few questions and Eeth giving monosyllabic answers. She had not had the feeling that Eeth was doing this in order to get rid of her, though; he was just not very talkative. Two or three times, she had talked a little longer to Eeth's crèche master, who had told her about the boy's remarkable progress in nearly all areas of his studies. This had pleased her; after all, she had been among those who had, at the time, pressured the Council to reconsider its initial decision of refusig to accept Eeth into the Temple. In any case, the relationship she had with Eeth could hardly be described as close or personal. And still, she felt curiously comfortable in his company, despite the fact that he was making no apparent effort to give her that feeling - which most initiates who, at age ten were starting to hope for a master to accept them as padawans, surely would have tried.

They sat down in an empty observation lounge that gave a spectacular view of mid-afternoon Coruscant with its dense traffic. Fenya had been out in the wild for quite a while, and she had not lied when she had told Eeth she would enjoy the view.

Normally, she would have asked the boy how he was doing, but she suspected that Eeth's response would most likely be a mere "good", resulting in an awkward silence. So she asked instead: "What kind of meditation did I interrupt just now?"

Eeth hesitated for a moment, then replied: "Nothing specific. I often meditate to find my balance. Or to think."

"Did you have reason to do so?" Fenya asked bluntly. She wanted to get to know this withdrawn, self-sufficient boy better, and she suspected that blunt questions were the best way to achieve this.

Eeth looked surprised and uncomfortable for a moment at this question.

"Yes," he finally said – the least forthcoming answer imaginable.

"Tell me about them," Fenya ordered. This might not be the most compassionate reaction to Eeth's clam-like behaviour, but by now, she had an inkling of where her relationship with the boy was going, and if her feeling was right, they definitely needed to get their conversations past the polite "How do you do" stage even if it meant having to order Eeth to tell her about himself.

Eeth frowned, but did not go as far as to voice any protest.

"There was a conflict with some boys in my crèche group," he said reluctantly. "Master Min did not exactly find fault with my actions, at least not enough to punish me, but he told me I desperately needed to learn to get along with people. I do not really know what I did wrong, though. That was what I was meditating about."

"And did you have any insights?" asked Fenya, a lot more gently than before.

Eeth shook his head mutely.

"Well, what exactly happened between you and the boys?" Fenya continued to probe.

Eeth sighed, clearly not enthusiastic about continuing this conversation, but not about to refuse to answer.

"We were coming out of the gym after our kata lesson," he said. "In that lesson, our teacher demonstrated an aerial move and I was the only one to master it. Heyan, one of the boys in my group, said to me that he had no idea how I did this and that he was not going to master this move in a hundred years. I told him that with such a self-defeating attitude, he was indeed never going to master that move. He said that it had nothing to do with his attitude and that someone like me, who is a natural, would not understand anyway. I told him that I am not a natural. I also pointed out that I spend my free time practising instead of playing around or slacking off, and if he did the same, maybe he would not have to complain about not being able to learn new moves. For some reason, this upset him although it's the plain truth. So he tried to punch me. I had to defend myself, so I caught his arm and flung him on his back."

"Did you hurt him?" asked Fenya.

"No!" exclaimed Eeth indignantly. "I knew what I was doing! I did not want to hurt him, I was only defending myself. However, this seemed to upset him even more and the next thing I knew was that he and three of his friends were trying to fight me all at once. At that point, Master Min noticed what was going on, though, and intervened. He talked to all of us together and then separately. That was when he told me I needed to learn to get along with others."

"That much is true," Fenya said wryly. "When you become a Jedi one day, that is an ability you will need."

Eeth gave her a scrutinising look. "So you think I am going to become a Jedi?" he asked, and suddenly, for the first time during their talk, he sounded his age, possibly even younger. Obviously, there were some insecurities hidden behind his self-assured façade. Fenya was a little surprised at this particular type of insecurity, though.

"Why ever should you not become a Jedi?" she asked. "From everything I hear, you excel in your studies, and you excel in your training. You have a strong connection with the Force and a tremendous amount of mental discipline. Do you have any doubt that a Jedi is what the Force has meant for you to become?"

"When I meditate, no," said Eeth with conviction. "But when I'm with the others… I am not so sure. Master Min is right, I do not get along with people. I have never fit in. But the Jedi have to deal with people a lot. I sometimes get the feeling that whenever I try to talk to others, someone ends up angry or upset or sad. And that will not do for a Jedi knight, will it? "

"Well, we all have things we need to work on," Fenya said mildly. "Being perfect at everything, without exception, is hardly a realistic goal. All Jedi have their strengths and weaknesses. And you are not old enough to be a Jedi yet by a long shot; you still have plenty of time to learn."

"Well, that's good, because I think there is a lot I need to learn," Eeth said in an uncharacteristically small voice. "For example, I fail to see what I did wrong when talking to Heyan. I was merely telling the truth. Master Min seems to think that was unwise, though."

"There are moments to tell the truth and moments to be silent," said Fenya. "And there are different ways to tell the truth. You can make it sound encouraging or you can make it sound disparaging. You can offer help or you can pass judgement. In this case, you did the latter, and people rarely react well to that. Especially people your age, who would not expect a crèche mate to pass judgement on them."

"So this is about the fact that I am not his superior?" Eeth asked, apparently struggling to make sense of this.

"Partly, yes," said Fenya.

"And I should have offered help?" Eeth continued to ask.

"That would have been a good option, I suppose," Fenya replied, suppressing a smile. Eeth seemed to be a social dyslexic, but he was obviously willing to learn.

Eeth nodded thoughtfully, processing what he had heard.

"Thank you, Master Jaa," he said a little absently.

"You are very welcome," said Fenya gently. "We all reach a point where we need guidance with some things. And I think this is an area that you need guidance with."

Eeth was silent for a moment. He was not good at accepting guidance, and he knew it. Instructions, yes. Teaching, yes. Guidance? His general tendency to take control often interfered with that. In the crèche environment, that had not really been a problem. Sticking to the rules and fulfilling all his duties had usually been sufficient to keep him out of trouble. Realistically, he knew that if he continued to become a Jedi, the Force would lead him to a master at some point, and that would be a much more personal relationship than he had with his crèche master. Refusing to follow a master's guidance would not be an option. Suddenly it occurred to him that he might not have been the only one to pursue this line of thought. His head snapped up and he looked at Fenya intently.

"Have you taken me here because you are thinking about becoming the one to offer me that guidance?" he asked bluntly.

This time, it was Fenya who was taken aback. She had by now more or less resigned herself to the fact that taking on a third padawan was going to be the end result of her dealings with Eeth, but she had not expected such a direct question so fast. Well, there was nothing for it now.

"Yes," she replied honestly, "although I'm not sure I was aware of it at the time. How do you feel about that? Or rather, what does the Force tell you about it?"

Eeth thought about the question seriously and for quite a while. Fenya did not interrupt him; it was an important question, after all, and a rash answer would do no one any good.

"It feels right," he finally said. "And not only because you are the one person in the Temple whom I have known longest. It feels right in the Force. I also think I need to accept guidance if I want to progress. And I do want to progress."

That sounded far too mature coming from a ten-year-old. But of course, Eeth had a lot more experience with life than most ten-year-olds in the Temple had. He had always seemed older than his years.

"And I want you to make progress," Fenya said, realising that it was true. For some reason and at some point, without her knowing it, the stand-offish, earnest, ambitious Zabrak initiate had won her heart. Not to mention the mental connection she had already felt to him the moment she had first met him on Nar Shaddaa, six years ago. Their pairing was Force-willed, that much she was sure of.

"Would you like to move in with me tonight, or would you rather take your time saying good bye to your crèche master and crèche mates?" she asked as they made their way back to the crèche a while later.

Eeth frowned. "Don't we have to ask the Council first?" he asked.

"Yes," said Fenya, "but that's a mere formality. I won't even have to move; I still have a spare bedroom from the time I trained my second padawan, Shunti."

"If the Council has to agree first, it would be improper to move in before that has happened," Eeth declared with an air of finality. Fenya was not quite sure whether to be amused or irritated at this statement, but settled for the former. After all, there was no rush.

"Very well," she said. "I will make an appointment for tomorrow morning and will pick you up before then. "You need only pack your toiletry items, underwear, sleep-wear and whatever personal items you want to take. You will receive new uniforms and a new practice sabre."

Eeth nodded.

"I will do that," he promised.

Master Min took the news without showing any sign of surprise. In fact, he had been expecting this for years, and he was glad to finally see it happen. Eeth was at a stage where the crèche had little more to offer to him in terms of instruction. Moreover, he was in dire need of more individual guidance than a crèche master could provide. Becoming a padawan would enable him to advance in his training and studies at his own speed and to work more effectively on his ability to interact with people. And Fenya Jaa, with her patience, long experience and the necessary mixture between strictness and a mild sense of humour, was the perfect person to guide him in this process.

He handed Eeth a duffel bag and told him: "Please go and pack your things. I need to talk to your prospective master for a moment. I will be in to see you in a while."

"Thank you, Master Min," said Eeth formally, bowing to his crèche master. He turned towards his future master and bowed to her, too.

"May the Force be with you, Master Jaa," he said even more formally.

"And with you, Eeth," she replied solemnly. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Expect me after breakfast."

"I will," said Eeth and took off.

"Master Jaa," said Master Min, "I don't want to tell you too much about Eeth. It's probably best if you make your own experiences. But one thing you should know, in order to better understand the sometimes peculiar way in which he behaves. As you know, he has spent nearly two years as a street child on Nar Shaddaa. He has been able to draw on the Force in order to get over this experience to a remarkable extent, but it has still left a huge psychological impact. He is experiencing his life in the Temple as the opposite to his life on Nar Shaddaa, and he is doing his utmost to reinforce the difference between both. For example, Nar Shaddaa is an utterly lawless place. Here, there are structures and rules. Eeth not only sticks to them with single-minded determination, he also expects others to do the same. Needless to say, that does not exactly make him popular with the other children. However, the inherent logic in this determines Eeth's behaviour on many levels. Nar Shaddaa is dirty and unhealthy. Consequently, Eeth pays a lot of attention to cleanliness and health. You won't find food stains on his shirts, and you won't find him eating unhealthy food. What is most important is the fact that on Nar Shaddaa, he was as helpless, exposed and vulnerable as anyone can be. Consequently, with respect to his life at the Temple, he is doing his utmost to be in control. Now, I am not telling you that you have to indulge all these personality traits to an unlimited extent, but you should be aware of them and know how where they come from."

Fenya nodded.

"That makes a lot of sense," she said, "and it does explain a lot of his somewhat odd behaviour. Thank you for telling me. IHe does not strike me as a boy who is hard to handle, though; or did I get a wrong impression there."

Min smiled and shook his head.

"No, he is not hard to handle, at least not in the conventional sense," he said. "He sticks to the rules. He accepts hierarchies. He obeys orders and he never shirks his duties. And yet... he tends to think that he knows best. And he can be very obstinate about that. But as I said, it's best if you see for yourself."

By the next morning, Fenya had obtained an appointment with the Council. She had cleared out Shunti's old room and stocked up the contents of her cooler. At half past eight, she came to pick Eeth up. He was already waiting for her at the crèche entrance, duffel bag in hand.

"Good morning, Master Jaa," he said, bowing. Obviously he was reserving the denomination of "Master" for the time after they had seen the Council. Fenya understood him a little better now after her talk with Master Min.

"Good morning, initiate Eeth," she said, smiling at him. "Have you already said good bye to Master Min? Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," said Eeth. "He's teaching now, he told me to wait for you here. Are we going to see the Council?"

"We are going to my quarters first," Fenya replied. "Well, our quarters, of course. You can drop off your bag there so you won't have to take it in front of the Council. After that, yes, we are going to see the Council."

One hour later, they returned to Fenya's – and now Eeth's – quarters where the boy's duffel bag stood waiting in the hallway.

"Best unpack your things and make yourself acquainted with your new room," Fenya said. Eeth nodded, took his bag and went to the room she showed him. She had hardly arrived in the kitchen and started making some tea when he was back.

"Do you need help?" she asked.

"No, I'm done," said Eeth.

"What, already?" Fenya asked in surprise.

Eeth shrugged. "I do not own a lot of things. Putting underwear into drawers does not take long."

"Don't you want to look around your new room a little?" she inquired.

Eeth shook his head.

"It's just a room," he said dismissively.

"All right then," Fenya said, a little taken aback. "Would you like some tea, too?"

"I do not know what it tastes like," Eeth admitted. "We mostly used to drink water in the crèche. But I will try some tea if that is what you drink. Is it safe for Zabrak?"

"It's a good question," she said, "and the answer is yes."

Fenya had worked with many Zabrak in the past – Zabrak being one of the most common species in the Temple – and knew that they could digest most everything other humanoids could. With regard to her tea, she was positive. As for the other stuff in the kitchen, she had programmed "suitable for Zabrak" into her console before ordering her groceries, so Eeth should be safe.

She poured the tea and showed Eeth where the cups were. Soon, they were sitting at the table, each with a steaming mug of tea in front of them. Fenya offered Eeth sugar, which he declined. He liked the tea without it well enough, he said.

"What do we do now?" he inquired.

"Quite honestly, I am not going to do anything before I have finished my tea," Fenya said mildly. "After that, we have several options. We could go and get you your new uniforms and training sabre. We could meditate and lay the foundations of our training bond. We could also have a session in the gym so I can see where you are with your training, but we will need your training sabre for that."

"Could we do the meditation first?" Eeth asked.

Fenya nodded.

"Sure, why not?" she replied.

It was a joy to meditate with Eeth, she found. He had such a strong connection to the Force and such a high level of mental discipline that it required practically no effort to guide him through the meditation which allowed them to form a training bond. She had done this before, once with her master and twice with her previous padawans, but never had the process been so easy. Eeth's focus never once wavered, which was highly unusual for a ten-year-old. Only when she mentally nudged him to lower his shields did she sense a slight amount of hesitation. He complied, however; and when she asked him to release his fears and anxieties into the Force, he did so readily, giving the impression that he had done this a thousand times before. Which was quite necessary because the amount of fears he released, with her quiet support, was impressive. Working on negative emotions was a task that most young apprentices disliked, and Fenya did not presume that Eeth was an exception; but he did it without the slightest trace of reluctance. When he had reached the required level of serenity, she invited him to connect with her, and he followed the invitation readily. Building up a fledgling training bond was a powerful experience and one that she had enjoyed every single time it had happened, but possibly never as much as this time. When, after quite a long time, master and padawan arose from their meditative trance, Eeth held his eyes closed for a few seconds longer, and there was an unconscious smile on his face that mirrored his master's. Fenya felt a warm rush of affection for the boy.

Next, she took Eeth to procure uniforms, a practice sabre and a few more items he needed, then introduced him to the main dining hall. Eeth chose fish, steamed whole grains, a salad and a piece of fruit for lunch.

"Is this what you usually eat or are you trying to impress me with your healthy eating habits?" she asked as they sat down, grinning at him.

Eeth stared at her, clearly offended.

"Are you suggesting I would not pick healthy food if it was not for your presence?" he asked indignantly.

"Relax," Fenya said mildly. "It was a joke. You need to learn to recognise those if you want to get along with people. My grin was meant to clue you in."

Eeth merely gave her a half-glare. With a shrug, she let the matter drop and started on her food. Only after she had raised the first fork to her mouth did Eeth start on his. He was obviously very well-mannered.

This also showed in the way he ate: quietly and tidily, not too fast and not too slow. Only when both had finished his lunch did he talk again.

"When will I start classes?" he asked.

Fenya explained about the placement test he would be taking tomorrow. Actual classes would only start four days from now, however, as today was a Thursday. Eeth did not seem to be entirely satisfied with that information, but accepted it for now.

"Will we go to the gym now?" he asked as soon as his master rose from her chair.

"Better wait for an hour for the food to set," she replied. "Besides, we need to fetch our gym bags. Let's go home and rest for a short while."

"I do not need rest," Eeth said resolutely. "While you rest, could you give me lessons to work on so I can prepare for my new classes? Or could we do Force work?"

Fenya's eyebrows rose incredulously.

"Are you always so eager to have work heaped on you?" she asked.

"Yes," said Eeth stonily.

Well, that was… interesting. Fenya was not quite sure what to make of this yet.

"We can have a look at your Force work skills," she conceded.

"Thank you, master," Eeth said earnestly.

Unsurprisingly, Eeth's skills at Force work turned out to be quite advanced for a ten-year-old. He was even better with a sabre: fast, agile, precise, in superb physical condition and completely in unison with the Force.

"You must have worked hard in your kata and sparring classes," Fenya remarked as they ended their first match which had been a lot more challenging than she had expected from a child this age.

"I did," Eeth replied matter-of-factly. "And I worked out a lot in my free time. Having control of my sabre might mean the difference between life and death one day."

He said it with the authority of someone who had seen death quite often already in his young life.

"Well, that's true," Fenya said. "Just remember that there are other things you need to work on as well."

The following weeks showed her that Eeth was actually extremely, if not excessively, diligent at working on other things than his physical training, as long as these things involved studying, meditating, Force work and chores. After a few days, it dawned on him that his master was not willing to load him with enough work to last him for fourteen hours a day, seven days a week. From then on, he desisted from asking her, but he still spent every free minute either at his desk or on his meditation mat or in the gym, performing all the exercises that he was allowed to do on his own or building up strength and stamina. Sometimes he went to the pools instead. If he spotted things that needed doing in their quarters, he did them.

On their very first day, they got into in argument about Eeth's bedtime, which he insisted was too early.

"I do not need much sleep," he declared. "I could make use of the time in better ways than lying in bed."

"No, you could not," said Fenya decisively. "Sleep is important."

"I know that," said Eeth respectfully, but firmly. "But not everyone has the same need for sleep. I need less than others."

"We'll start with this bedtime and I'll see how it works for you," said Fenya equally firmly. "Now get ready for bed."

"May I read some more in bed, then?" asked Eeth, apparently recognising defeat.

"A quarter of an hour, at most," said Fenya. "If you still have trouble falling asleep after that, I can help you with a sleep compulsion."

"Thank you, that will not be necessary," Eeth said politely. He got ready for bed, performed his evening meditation with his master, climbed into his bed, read for a quarter of an hour and then switched off his light without being told.

Fenya might have congratulated herself on having found such a compliant apprentice, but somehow Eeth's demonstrative compliance made her slightly wary. However, only after a week had passed did she become suspicious about the fact that Eeth was consistently awake and alert when she came in to wake him.

"Just out of curiosity," she said during breakfast one morning. "What hour do you set your alarm clock to?"

"I do not set an alarm clock," Eeth replied promptly. "I wake up on my own."

"Very well," said Fenya, taking a sip of tea. "And at what time do you wake up?"

"It varies," said Eeth, his face and the tone of his voice absolutely deadpan.

"You, padawan, are being evasive," said Fenya pointedly. "What was the latest time you have woken up during the past week?"

Eeth scowled and hesitated a little. "Five thirty," he finally said.

Fenya had been suspicious from the outset, but nevertheless she was taken aback.

"And the earliest?" she asked, just to get the complete picture.

"Four thirty," said Eeth reluctantly. "I told you I do not need much sleep."

"What have you been doing in the mornings until I came to wake you up?" inquired Fenya.

"Studying, mostly," said Eeth.

Fenya pursed her lips and frowned at him.

"Right," she finally said. "Your nightly curfew will be extended by half an hour."

"Thank you, master," Eeth said, and it sounded genuine grateful.

"At the same time," Fenya continued, pointing a stern look at him, "I forbid you to get up any time before six in the morning under any circumstances short of fire or earthquake."

"What if I have to go to the restroom?" asked Eeth innocently.

"Now you are trying to be insolent," Fenya snapped. "You get my meaning. Stick to my instructions if you know what's good for you."

"Yes, master," Eeth said contritely. "Sorry."

And he did stick to her instructions from now on. Fenya concluded from this episode that giving him direct orders - if possible, without leaving loopholes - was what worked best for him.

Nevertheless, over the course of the following days, Fenya's concern about her padawan's excessive working habits rose. When two-and-a-half weeks of Eeth's apprenticeship had passed and he had not, despite frequent encouragement, spent a single hour in the padawans' lounge or otherwise relaxing, playing or entertaining himself, she decided to put her foot down.

"What are you planning on doing tonight?" she asked him that Monday during dinner.

"I'm going to go to the pools to swim for an hour and then put in some more work for my biology class," Eeth replied immediately.

"No, you are not," said Fenya decisively. "There will have to be some changes here."

"Why?" asked Eeth, giving the impression of being honestly surprised. "Don't you want me to do well in my training and in my classes?"

"Eeth, you are already doing excellently, and you know it," Fenya said a tad impatiently. "Do you remember the conversation we had in the observation lounge the day you decided to become my padawan?"

Eeth scowled a little. She had come to recognise the expression on his face as one that meant he did not like the topic.

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

"In that case," Fenya continued, "you certainly remember agreeing that you need to learn how to get along with people. Well, there is no way of learning this if you keep avoiding people."

"I do not avoid people," Eeth said with dignity. "I go to classes. I spend a lot of time with you, too."

"And how many minutes, would you say, have you interacted with other padawans in matters not strictly related to your lessons during the past two weeks?" Fenya asked pointedly.

Eeth did not reply to this question, which was answer enough.

"I thought so," said Fenya. "You are going to spend your evenings, after dinnertime, in the padawans' lounge from now on. Until further notice."

Eeth looked stunned for a moment. Then worried.

"But master!" he protested. "How am I supposed to do well in my lessons if I do not have the evenings to prepare? There will be exams coming up, too! And I am not allowed to work in the mornings either!"

"The exams will be two and a half months from now, padawan," Fenya said reasonably. However, she discerned a very real hint of panic in the emotions emanating from her padawan, and thus relented a little.

"Every second evening, then," she said. "Starting tonight. And that's an order. An order I will not entertain any discussions about."

The scowl on Eeth's face deepened, but he did not persist. Without further argument, he went off to the padawans' lounge after dinner and came back a little before his bedtime.

"How did it go?" asked Fenya as he entered their quarters.

"Good," said Eeth neutrally, hanging his cloak onto a hook.

"Did you get to know any of the other padawans?" she pressed on.

Eeth stiffened and hesitated.

"Well, sort of," he said a little awkwardly. Fenya instantly smelled a rat.

"Padawan, what exactly have you been doing tonight?" she demanded to know.

"I went to the padawans' lounge and spent my evening there, as you told me to!" Eeth replied firmly.

Fenya's eyes narrowed. She rose from the table and beckoned her padawan over.

"That is not what I meant with my question," she said sternly. "What, exactly, did you do while you were in the padawans' lounge?"

Eeth scowled.

"I sat in an armchair and read a book," he said, folding his arms across his chest and looking at her defiantly. "That was not against my instructions."

"No, but it was against the spirit of my instructions, and you knew it," said Fenya ominously. "I've got enough of your attempts to evade my orders and decide what is best for you all by yourself. For as long as I'm your master, you will leave that job to me. I have been lenient on the issue of your unhealthy morning habits, but enough is enough. This time, there will be repercussions."

Eeth's frowned at her.

"I did not break any rules, nor did I disobey you, endanger my safety or do anything else that warrants punishment," he ground out. "I do not deserve to be punished."

"I beg to disagree," said Fenya calmly, but firmly. "You are intelligent enough to know the purpose and intent of my instructions, and yet you went out of your way to avoid following them. I was already unhappy with that strategy when your curfew was concerned and I'm even less amused now."

She pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

"Bare your bottom and get over my lap," she ordered in as stern a tone of voice as she had ever used with Eeth.

And Eeth obeyed, but in a way that suggested he did not at all consider this punishment justified. He lay across his master's lap, stiff as a board, and he did not make a sound or even wince as she started spanking him. Nor did he show any kind of reaction as she increased the force and frequency behind the swats.

"Are you drawing on the Force in order to deal with the pain?" she inquired, pausing for a moment.

"No, master," Eeth said evenly. "It was forbidden in the crèche. I assumed the same would be the case with you."

"It is," said Fenya and resumed the spanking, not commenting on the fact that most ten-year-olds would not even have known how to use the Force in order to deal with pain. She knew that Eeth had mastered the technique at an early age, on Nar Shaddaa. Despite the fact that he was not using it right now, however, the spanking she was dealing out did not seem to have any effect – and that was not because she was going easy on her padawan. She knew that Zabrak were, by nature, much better able to resist pain than Iktotchi or most other humanoids, but Eeth was still a ten-year-old-boy with skin on his bottom that must contain some nerve endings. Still, she did not seem to get through to him at all.

Recognising the futility of her efforts, she stopped the spanking and ordered: "Get up, pull up your pants and look at me."

Eeth complied, the expression on his face being quite defiant.

"You do not understand why I saw fit to punish you at all, do you?" asked Fenya.

"No, master," Eeth replied, stony-faced.

"Then I will try to explain," said Fenya. "Padawan, you are very good at obeying orders. You are also very good at circumventing them without disobeying outright. Technically, you are sticking to the rules while at the same time defeating the purpose the rules have been made for. And you are smart enough to know exactly that this is what you're doing. That, however, is plain dishonest. You claim to be going to the padawans' lounge, knowing full well that I only made you go there so you can acquire some practice in interacting with other padawans your age; and then you do something that goes entirely against this purpose. That is no better than lying to me. I would much prefer it if you defied my instructions directly. That way, you would at least be honest with me."

Eeth lowered his eyes as she was talking, and she knew that, finally, she was getting through to him. He opened his mouth to speak twice and closed it again; he seemed to be conflicted about what to say. Finally, he asked in a small voice: "Would you allow me to meditate on what you have told me, master? I promise I am not trying to be evasive. I just need some time to think."

Fenya scrutinised his downcast face for a moment, then nodded.

"Ten minutes, padawan," she said. Eeth bowed wordlessly and took off for his room.

Exactly ten minutes later, he came back and knelt in front of his master's knees in a formal gesture of submission.

"I apologise, master," he said quietly, but clearly. "You are right. I tried to circumvent your instructions because you told me to do something I did not want to do. I convinced myself that I was not doing anything wrong, but I was lying to myself. I was dishonest and disobedient and you were right to want to punish me for it."

Fenya was more than a little surprised at this candid and plainly truthful admission of guilt, and her heart warmed for her padawan. She steeled herself against becoming too soft, though. Just like every other child, Eeth needed to know that there were consequences for bad behaviour.

"Thank you, padawan," she said calmly. "I accept your apology. Now, as for the matter of punishment. Would the spanking I just gave you truly count as punishment for you? Would it be enough deter you from doing something like this again in the near future?"

Eeth shook his head almost imperceptibly and admitted hesitantly: "Not really, master."

"I thought so," said Fenya crisply. "In that case, we are not quite done here. Wait for me exactly where you are."

Eeth remained kneeling obediently; the expression on his face was not one of defiance any longer, but of shame. Clearly he had realised that he had not met his master's expectations and equally clearly that realisation did not sit well with him. Well, he would just have to learn to take her authority seriously, instead of following his own whims.

Fenya took a pocket knife from a drawer, went into a nearby meditation garden and cut a sturdy switch. After a second's thought, she cut a second one. She had the feeling that, with this padawan, she would have to adjust her standards as far as the harshness of punishments was concerned. Possibly, she might even have to procure some actual spanking implements that, with her previous padawans, she had always managed to do without.

Armed with the two switches, she returned to her quarters where Eeth was still kneeling motionlessly, his head lowered.

"Padawan, bare your bottom and bend over the table," she instructed.

Eeth complied without hesitation, having briefly eyed the switches, but not showing any apparent signs of nervousness. He was just tall enough to grip the opposite end of the table top, and that was what Fenya told him to do. Then she started switching his bottom, using both switches at once. And that, finally got a reaction out of her padawan. However much Eeth might be trying to bear his punishment stoically, it was simply impossible without being allowed to draw on the Force. At the first stroke, he winced; at the second, he held his breath and only just managed to stay still; at the third, he hissed and started shifting his weight from foot to foot. Throughout the punishment, he managed to refrain from reaching back, which testified to his enormous self-control, but he could not keep himself from making sounds of distress, stomping his feet occasionally and finally crying softly into his sleeve. It took Fenya eighteen strokes with both switches to reach that point, which was a lot more than she would have been comfortable with where any of her previous padawans was concerned. Eeth's bottom looked pretty bad by the time she was done. However, there was no resentment in his demeanour as he straightened up, wiped the tears from his face and said in a slightly hoarse voice: "Thank you for correcting me, master. I will try to do better from now on."

"You are welcome," said Fenya gently, surprised and a little touched at this unexpected reaction. She hugged Eeth briefly, but sensed that this made him uncomfortable and therefore released him quickly.

"You will go to the padawans' lounge again tomorrow," she told him. "And you will spend your time there talking to other padawans to the best of your ability. Is that understood?"

"Yes, master," Eeth said, and she knew that this time he would do as she had told him.

"Good," she said. "Now, I want you to meditate for half an hour. After that, I will give you some bacta to apply to your bottom. I don't want you to have to sleep like that."

"Can't I just use the Force to heal myself?" Eeth asked.

Fenya sighed. "Yes, my almighty padawan. If you prefer it that way."


	2. Chapter 2

The following weeks went by reasonably well. Eeth was hard-working as ever and only took time off if Fenya ordered him to, which she mostly did by sending him to the padawans' lounge under strict instructions to talk to other padawans. This he did, with varying degrees of success. Among his achievements was an invitation to become part of a study group for astrophysics. It was composed of a number of academically ambitious padawans who regularly met to work on special projects. All the other members of the group were at least one or two years older than Eeth, but due to his sharp mind, his broad knowledge and diligence, he quickly gained their respect. He had also taken to working out regularly with a fellow Iktotchi padawan, Saesee Tiin. Fenya and Saesee's master arranged for supervised sparring sessions between the two of them occasionally.

Eeth's overambitious working habits and his upfront manner did not sit well with all padawans, however. Two or three times, other padawans tried to play pranks on him, but he ignored them in such a supremely dignified manner that it just did not seem like fun; there were no repeat occurrences. On a few occasions, he ended up unwittingly offending other padawans. The only reason for which he did not get involved in an actual fight was his adamant refusal to let himself be provoked into it. Fighting was forbidden, so he would not do it, period. Fenya assumed that there was more to it, though: aggression was what ruled the streets on Nar Shaddaa, and Eeth held a deep loathing for everything to do with that environment.

After each evening Eeth spent in the padawans' lounge, Fenya asked him specific questions about how things had gone. In those cases in which it had not gone too well, she had him recount his conversations and explained to him where he had gone wrong. He seemed to memorise conversation rules like other people were memorising foreign vocabulary. As long as he was making an effort to improve, that was fine with Fenya. She was under no illusion that he would ever become a charming, humorous, sympathetic, all-out popular person, but that had never been her goal to start with.

To her surprise, Eeth was doing quite well in his diplomacy class. Of course, the practical exercises in class were all based on understanding other peoples' interests and respecting their cultural sensitivities. This could be learned theoretically. The really interesting question was how Eeth would fare in a real-life situation where things like body language, facial expressions and actual feelings were concerned. As for small talk, Fenya could just hope that, when his duty required it, Eeth would prove himself capable of more than monosyllabic answers. At least she would be able to count on him not to lose his composure in the face of provocation; that was an asset in itself.

"You've got your oral Twi'leki exam today, don't you?" she said one Monday morning towards the end of the cycle during breakfast.

"Hmm," mumbled Eeth, who had been even less talkative than usual during the weekend and had withdrawn to his room to study whenever possible. His preoccupation with his exam even seemed to have affected his sparring skills during the last day or two, which was highly uncharacteristic for him. But then, this exam was his first after having become a padawan. A little bit of nervousness was understandable, even if it manifested itself in strange ways.

"Is everything all right, padawan?" Fenya asked, noticing that Eeth had hardly eaten.

"Yes, master," Eeth said immediately, even attempting a smile. He sometimes, very rarely, did that these days. She must be doing something right. In any case, she had no doubt that Eeth would get home with a stellar grade. He had only started on studying Twi'leki this cycle, but he had a gift for languages and had studied and practised a lot.

Fenya was more than a little surprised when, right after her senior padawans' Advanced Iktotchi class had concluded, a comm call from a rather displeased Twi'leki teacher reached her, asking her to pick up her padawan. She made arrangements for a substitute teacher to take over her subsequent class and went to the room – next door, in fact – where her padawan had his Twi'leki classes. There sat Eeth, stony-faced, while a rather annoyed-looking Knight Amrak was waiting for her at the door. A fairly big paddle was lying on the desk, she noticed immediately as she entered.

"Master Jaa," said Knight Amrak, bowing to her. "I'm glad you could come. I'm afraid your apprentice saw fit to insult me repeatedly during the oral exam and was unwilling to apologise or even explain his behaviour. I punished him with six strokes of the paddle. Unfortunately, that did not induce him to give up his defiance. I did not want to mete out any more punishment without your consent, so I saw no other option than to call you."

Fenya frowned.

"He insulted you in what way?" she inquired, quite puzzled. Insulting teachers was simply not something Eeth did.

"Well, to start with, I asked him to translate expressions into Twi'leki," replied Knight Amrak. "He is usually a very good student, but most of his answers were wrong, some even nonsensical. I reprimanded him for being so poorly prepared. Instead of apologising, he remained mute. I then turned to the next section of the exam where I engage students in simple dialogues. However, your padawan replied my question about the weather with an outright, and quite outrageous, Twi'leki insult. He has certainly not learned it in my lessons, so I assume he must have picked it up somewhere else or, even worse, gone looking for something to insult me with. I asked him if he knew what it meant. He said yes and translated it into Basic right into my face. He has since refused to apologise or give an explanation for his insolence."

Fenya looked at Eeth again. He was sitting very upright, very still and was staring straight ahead, his lips pursed. Then she noticed something curious: Her padawan was sweating. He usually needed a really vigourous workout to break a sweat, so why was he sweating now?

On an impulse, she put a gentle hand onto Eeth's forehead. He shrank back from the touch, and so did she, out of consternation at the heat she felt.

"You are burning up, padawan!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to take you to the healers. This matter can wait."

"I do not need to see any healers," Eeth said mutinously, although in a slightly raspy voice, and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you are not," snapped Fenya. "You can either follow me or I'll have you carried there on a stretcher. Your choice."

A quarter of an hour later, Eeth was lying in his underwear on an examination table in the healers' ward while a Nautolan healer was running a scanner over him. Knight Amrak, quite dismayed at this turn of events as well as his failure to recognise a seriously ill padawan had told Fenya to just call him later at any time of her convenience and tell him how her padawan was doing; they could then talk about how to proceed about the oral exam.

After what seemed like ages to Fenya, but was probably only a minute or so, the healer lowered the scanner and looked up. She opened her mouth to speak to Fenya, but was cut short by Eeth who had apparently decided that enough was enough.

"Thank you, I'm fine now," he said, starting to push himself up. The healer pushed him back down.

"You are not," she said firmly. "You've caught an infection with the numvoris virus, one of the rare diseases that only affect Zabrak. If your master had brought you in at the first show of symptoms, a couple of hyposprays would have done the trick. Now that the virus has had ample time to spread, it's not so easy. We will have to keep you in for a couple of days."

"Nonsense, I do not need that," said Eeth, trying again to push himself up. The healer pushed him down, put the scanner onto a table, rolled him to his side and administered a ringing swat to his underwear-clad backside.

"When I say you have to stay here, that is what's going to happen," she said firmly, letting go of him. "And don't interrupt me again when I'm trying to talk to your master."

Eeth looked as if he was going to stick out his bottom lip in a pout. Fenya had never seen him do anything as childish as that before. She supposed he must be feeling really rotten to let himself go like that.

"One word of advice, Eeth," she said quite kindly. "The healers outrank you where your health is concerned. So you do what they say. Always. They will not be amused if you don't, and neither will I. Now."

She turned back towards the healer.

"Are you suggesting he must have had symptoms for a while now?" she asked. "Because the first time I noticed he was sick was less than half an hour ago. I'm pretty sure he was not running a fever this morning."

"The fever is the last stage, when the disease has fully broken out," the healer replied. "Before that, there are a few unspecific symptoms: headaches, a dull pain in the horns, fatigue, a diminished appetite and aching limbs. The only specific symptom, and usually the first to occur besides general exhaustion, are itching palms and soles."

Fenya turned towards Eeth.

"How long have you had any of these symptoms?" she demanded to know.

"I did not know they were symptoms!" Eeth tried to defend himself weakly. She gave him such a glare that he added sullenly: "Since Friday night, I think. I had a hard time sleeping because of the itching soles. But I was hardly going to run to you and say 'Master, my soles are itching.'"

The healer rested a hand on Fenya's shoulder.

"Feel free to have a discussion about this with your padawan when he's made a recovery," she said. "For now, he urgently needs rest and medication. Will you be able to stay with him?"

"I'll make arrangements," Fenya said.

Eeth was transported to a room in the healers' ward on a hoverstretcher, much to his obvious resentment, and hooked up to an IV line. Several sensors were attached to his head and chest. The healer on duty explained that the sensors would come off Eeth's his condition turned out to be stable after six hours. The disease occasionally took a severe course, and this event had to be excluded.

"If he does not feel like eating or drinking, he does not have to," the healer told Fenya. "He is receiving an adequate amount of nutrients and fluids through the IV line. He is allowed to use the restroom, but he needs someone with him. Numvoris patients are known to collapse unexpectedly."

Finally, Eeth and Fenya were left alone under strict instructions for Eeth to rest.

"Resting is stupid," Eeth grumbled. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Resting is not stupid," Fenya said sharply, "you are being stupid. You can hardly keep your eyes open and yet you keep arguing. REST."

"I could study some," Eeth proposed, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. "That is restful."

"And confuse Twi'leki expressions with curses?" Fenya asked sarcastically. "What a great idea. You heard the healer's orders, and you heard mine. Rest. Since when have you taken to disobeying your orders?"

Eeth scowled, but Fenya knew she had scored a point. Still, it pained her to see her padawan so miserable and so unable to take care of himself. If she wanted him to really understand why he needed rest, bullying him was not going to do the trick. She would have to appeal to his pride and to his desire to perform his duties.

She slid closer to his bed on her stool and took his hand.

"Eeth," she said gently. "A Jedi's body is his second-most important asset, after his mind. We need to take good care of it so it stays in working order. If we don't, we will not be able to carry out our duties. You eat healthy food and work out a lot, but a body also needs rest - especially when it is ill. You also need to heed your body's warning signs, or it will end up failing you. Had you told me about your symptoms Friday night, or Saturday morning, at the latest, you might have been able to avoid staying in the healers' ward. You might also have avoided causing yourself and your Twi'leki teacher embarrassment in your oral exam. There is no shame in being ill. It happens. There is considerable shame, however, in ignoring your body's needs and trying to do things that your body is currently incapable of. You have done enough of that. It stops here. You are going to be sensible and do everything the healers ask of you, including closing your eyes and resting. It will help you recover as quickly as possible; and you want that, don't you?"

Eeth was silent for more than a minute. Then he finally whispered: "Yes, I do. You are right, master. I thought it would go away if I ignored it. I have not been ill in years and I have always thought that only weak people fall ill. Apparently, I was wrong, and I did behave stupidly. I apologise."

"Apology accepted," said Fenya softly. "I'm glad you're seeing sense. We will talk more when you feel better. Now try to sleep."

Eeth nodded weakly. His eyelids drooped and he fell asleep in less than a minute. He was very obviously exhausted and had been fighting it off with all his strength.

"Silly padawan," Fenya murmured affectionately, stroking her sleeping apprentice's hand. He would hardly have allowed it, had he been awake!

Eeth slept a little fretfully for several hours. He then awoke briefly, reluctantly allowed his master to help him to the restroom, drank a cup of tea and fell asleep again. This time, it was a more peaceful sleep; when he awoke in the next morning, he was feeling a little better than last night, although he was still exhausted and had a raging headache. Fenya realised with relief that her lecture had fulfilled its purpose: Eeth now made an effort to follow the healers' instructions, even though he plainly did not like them. He stayed in bed and made no attempt to study or do Force work. This was rather boring to him; therefore, he ended up spending more time talking to his master than he had in all the past weeks of his apprenticeship taken together. In fact, it was Fenya who did most of the talking, telling Eeth all about her past missions and previous padawans; but Eeth actively asked questions and listened intently which showed her that he had a keen interest in what she had to tell him. In between those talks, he took naps, but they were getting shorter every time. By lunchtime, he felt ready to order some soup. He ate the first half of his bowl with ease, but had difficulties getting down the second half.

"Leave it," said Fenya indulgently.

"And have it thrown away?" Eeth asked incredulously.

"Well, you are sick," she pointed out. "If your stomach can't take this, you shouldn't force it. I don't want you to start vomiting."

"I can eat it," said Eeth stubbornly. "I do not want to waste food."

"Give it to me, then," Fenya said with an air of resignation. "I'll finish it for you." The healers had said Eeth was not contagious any more, and besides, Iktotchi could not catch numvoris anyway.

"All right," said Eeth a little reluctantly, but it was with an unmistakable air of relief that he was handing her the bowl and leaning back onto his pillows.

By dinnertime, his fever was down and he could eat a whole bowl of soup, two slices of bread and a piece of fruit. The healers had taken him off the intravenous nutrients supply during the afternoon and he was feeling hungry.

"If you continue like this, we will send you home tomorrow," said Healer Wqunmun, who was in charge of him. "But there will be no physical activity for a week, and other activities will have to be limited to allow for frequent periods of rest."

"Don't worry, I will take care of that," said Fenya with an air of determination that had Eeth know there would be no escaping these restrictions, horrifying though he might find them. But he had understood that his master was right: The healers were looking out for his health, and he would not be doing his body any favours if he continued to defy them. Therefore, he did not protest.

In the next morning, he indeed received permission to return home; and he was even allowed to go back to classes on Thursday. He had also been notified that he was going to be able to take his Twi'leki exam again the week after next, after his master had informed Knight Amrak that her padawan had been running a fever and had not really known what he was saying (which was true). She had also explained to the knight that Eeth had not studied Twi'leki swearwords with malicious intent; he had simply, while studying for his exam, retrieved a heap of additional vocabulary training unit from the archives, focussing on colloquial expressions, and swearing had been part of these. (As a matter of fact, she had added, understanding, if not using, swearwords could be very helpful during missions.)

After all this, it was with great relief that Eeth made his way to his quarters on his own feet at his master's side. His relief was short-lived, however. As soon as they had closed the door behind themselves, pulled off their boots and hung up their cloaks, she turned on him.

"We need to talk," she said grimly. "Specifically, we need to talk about the inadvisability of withholding information from your master."

She pointed him to the common room table.

Eeth's face fell, but he obediently went to the table, pulled out a chair and took a seat. His master took a seat opposite him.

"Now," she said sternly, "I think we both agree that you acted in an extremely stupid fashion. I would have expected you to have more sense. But fortunately for you, I consider you sufficiently punished for your stupidity by your run-in with your teacher and your stay in the healers' ward, plus the restrictions you will have to heed during the coming days. However, if you ever risk your health in such a negligent manner again, I will not nearly be as lenient. Are we clear on that?"

Eeth's face practically burned with shame, which was a first. He clearly found the experience of being rightly scolded for ignorant and careless behaviour quite mortifying.

"Yes, master," he said quietly, his head lowered.

Fenya was not quite done with him, however.

"What is much worse," she said in that same stern, implacable tone of voice (which was purposefully much sterner than she really felt like), "is that you decided to keep all this from me. You were feeling bad, and it impaired your training, your studies, your capacity to function. And yet you deemed it unimportant to inform me of this. It is my duty as your master to take care of you, including your health, and you made it impossible for me to do so. We will never be able to leave on missions if I cannot trust you to confide in me; if you think you know better or neglect to give me information because you fear it might result in restrictions that you are not ready to live with. That is not how our relationship works. It is based on mutual trust, but it is also based on a clear hierarchy. You violated both. That is entirely unacceptable."

Eeth stared at her with wide eyes. Clearly her words had hit home.

"I- I'm sorry, master," he stammered. "I- I had not seen it this way. I did not want to bother-"

Fenya cut him short.

"Nevertheless, you did end up bothering me," she said sharply. "But that is beside the point. I am your master. When you are ill, I expect you to bother me with it. It is not up to you to decide whether you will save me the trouble. No, padawan, I will hear no excuses about this. You made a grave error in judgement, and I don't want a repeat occurrence, ever. And just so you remember this talk whenever you feel tempted to keep information from me again, you will be punished now."

She pushed back her chair and patted her lap.

"Bare your bottom and bend over," she ordered. She knew, by now, that a handspanking was hardly the way to go if she wanted to leave an impression on Eeth's bottom. However, putting him across her knee was childish and embarrassing, and that was why she was hoping it would leave an impression nonetheless, even without causing excruciating pain. She would later resort to other means to reach the latter effect.

The expression on Eeth's face made it clear that he was beyond mortified by now. Nevertheless, he complied with her orders with hardly a sign of hesitation. When he had positioned himself across her lap, Fenya purposefully tilted him forward so much that his bottom was sticking up even more and he nearly lost his balance. Hopefully, that would drive home the fact that he was not in control right here and now - something that he consistently had a very hard time coming to terms with.

Fenya started spanking her padawan's upturned bottom hard and thoroughly. She noted that Eeth took the punishment a lot more contritely than the last time she had tried this. Obviously, it made a big difference whether he did or did not understand why he deserved it. He neither talked, cried or flung his hands back, but he winced, flinched, hissed, groaned and shifted around on her lap, which was probably the maximum reaction to a handspanking she could expect. It seemed to Fenya as if he felt the pain more acutely when he could not cling to stubborn denial of his misbehaviour, as he had the last time. Well, good, she thought. She continued the spanking until the dark skin of Eeth's bottom had visibly darkened some more and her arm was feeling the strain. Finally she stopped, but she was not done yet.

"Get up and bend over the table," she instructed without losing a moment's time. Eeth stiffly and awkwardly clambered from her lap, took a second to regain his composure and then complied. Fenya, in the meanwhile, went to her room to retrieve an implement she had procured the day before yesterday already when she had left the sleeping Eeth in the healers' ward for a couple of hours to take care of some affairs - including this one. She had borrowed the cane from a friend. Long and flexible, it was an implement that would not have been unsuitable for a much older padawan; but then, Eeth was nothing like her previous padawans, and she was confident he could take this. As she returned to the common room, cane in hand, Eeth could not see her coming and consequently had no idea what was in store for him. That suited Fenya fine; it might do him some good to be kept in suspense. After all, he needed to learn that he was not always in control.

Fenya took up a position behind her padawan, raised the cane and brought it down across his bottom smartly. There was a second's silence; then Eeth let out a hiss that turned into a kind of keening wail, and he briefly stomped his feet. Obviously, this was a type of punishment that not even Eeth could bear stoically, which was exactly what she had been aiming for. She'd rather cane him now than have him seriously risk his health later because he thought he could get away with such behaviour. The cane was definitely going to be her implement of choice if she wanted to leave an impression from now on, Fenya mused. While she pursued these thoughts, she slowly continued the caning, giving Eeth about ten seconds to register the impact of each stroke before she administered the next one. By the sixth, he was crying softly and rolling his hips from side to side in a futile effort to alleviate the pain. By the tenth, which landed on the top of his thighs, he was whimpering loudly and his arms were shaking from the effort of keeping them in front of him, clinging to the other side of the table. Nearly done here, thought Fenya, and meted out the last two strokes in quick succession, laying them down diagonally so that they formed an X that criss-crossed the ten parallel welts on Eeth's bottom. He let out a brief, high-pitched wail, then got his voice under control; but he was really sobbing now. Fenya put the cane aside, helped him up and handed him a handkerchief that he buried his face in.

She gave him a moment to get his sobs under control, which happened faster than she had anticipated. As soon as the flow of tears had subsided a little, Eeth knelt down in a formal gesture of respect and bowed his head.

"I apologise, master," he said quietly. "I will not withhold things from you again."

Fenya knelt down, too, having no desire to tower over him, and took a gentle hold of his shoulders with both hands.

"Apology accepted," she said gently. "I consider the matter closed. And, Eeth?"

"Yes, master?" he said, raising his head slightly so he could look at her.

"You make mistakes from time to time, just like everyone," Fenya said. "What is important is to admit them and learn from them. And that you do, admirably. For that, I'm very proud of you."

In response to that statement, Eeth's face lit up in a rare smile.

This type of exchange, after punishment had been meted out and a misstep been forgiven, was to become a kind of ritual between master and padawan in years to come.


End file.
